


When Snow Falls, We Listen

by destimushi



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Actor TK, Alternate Universe, Canadian Shack, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Carlos Reyes (9-1-1 Lone Star), M/M, Minor panic, Snowed In, alex is irredeemable, carlos is a big teddy bear, chef carlos, flexible dietary choices, more tags to come as the story posts, talk of past drug abuse, there's only one bed, tk can be a bit dramatic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29828055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destimushi/pseuds/destimushi
Summary: Hollywood heartthrob TK Strand seems to have everything figured out. He's got the career of his dreams, his pick of scripts, and a platform where he gets to touch the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. Sure, his personal life is just one sex scandal after another, but he's used that. He loves his job and adores his fans and that's all that matters. After attending a wedding that drags up unpleasant memories from a past he'd rather forget, TK books himself a remote cabin in Canada where he can recenter himself before his next big shoot.Carlos Reyes loves to cook, but he loves watching people enjoy his food more. Although his catering and meal planning business is booming, he's lost the spark of passion that drove him to culinary school in the first place. When his last catering job goes sideways and nasty rumours start to fly, Carlos retreats to his family's cabin up north in Canada for some much needed time to make some life-altering decisions.Miscommunication brings them together, but a snow storm keeps them there, and it's up to TK and Carlos to figure out what it is they both need to weather the storm.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 11
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After 1.5 seasons of my obsessing over these two, it's finally happened! A multi-chapter au fic! Thanks to Mel for putting up with me and alpha reading as I wrote, and thanks to my wonderful beta Bobbob for catching all my stupid mistakes. 
> 
> Updates will happen every Thursday night/Friday morning depending on life, but no later than Friday night! I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! And yes, the cabin is a real place, though it won't show up on Google maps because it's that remote!

TK checks the map—printed from the welcome email he received from the Airbnb host—taped to the dashboard of his rental, then squints at the road sign overhead. He hates driving at the best of times, but at least in the city one wrong turn won’t take him to the next town. Here in the backcountry of British Columbia, Canada, if he misses his exit, it’ll be miles of rolling hills before he can find his way back. 

Of course, things would be easier if he had a GPS, but the cabin he rented is so remote it doesn’t have an address he can pin on Google Maps. 

His phone rings. TK glances at the device laying on the driver’s seat before pressing the answer button on the steering wheel. Mateo’s voice, his agent, cuts off the music on the Bluetooth speakers. 

“Yo, TK. Where’re you at?”

“I’m getting close, I think.” TK checks the map again, making sure he took the right turn off the exit. “The map says I got one more fork in the road then I’ll be at the bottom of the driveway.”

“Okay. Good. You stay safe out there, you hear?” Mateo says, genuine concern in his voice. “Can’t have the famous TK Strand dead in the middle of nowhere in bum fuck Canada. Especially since your next job starts in three weeks.”

“Seriously, it’s not my first time heading off into the wilderness alone.” TK rolls his eyes. “At least this time there’s a heated cabin waiting for me.” 

“You know how much stress eating you cause me every time you take one of your little nature trips?” Mateo shoots back. “My entire fitness team waits with glee for you to take off so they can torture me.” 

“You have a fitness team?”

“Fuck off, Strand.”

TK laughs, his mood lifting. Over the years, Mateo has become more than just his agent, and he always knows how to cheer TK up. There’s a lull in their conversation, and TK checks his phone to make sure the call didn’t cut off. Service has been spotty ever since he left the last little town for fuel. Mateo’s handsome face is still on the screen with the call counter jumping up by the second. 

“You sure you’re okay, bud?” Mateo asks after another moment of silence, all traces of playfulness gone from his voice. 

TK drags a hand down his face, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. Is he okay? He’s not really sure, but that’s why he’s out here, isn’t it? “Yeah, I’ll be fine. There’s just been a lot going on.”

“What, with Douchenozzle’s wedding?” Mateo spits, still refusing to use Alex’s name. “Told you not to go.”

“It’s been four years and I’m over him, I swear,” TK says, resigned. “The past year has been a lot, with work and what not.” TK pauses and something twists in his gut. “And yeah, the wedding was a lot too.”

“It’s  _ Douchenozzle _ . Of course it was gonna be  _ a lot _ . He got married on Valentine’s day, for fuck’s sake. I mean, who even does that?” Mateo spits, and TK can hear the eye roll in his voice. “Why'd you even go?”

“He invited me.” TK shrugs even if Mateo can’t see it. “I wanted to show him that I’m over him. And I am, but he…he hasn’t changed one little bit.”

Mateo snorts. “Could have told you that and saved you a ridiculously expensive wedding gift. Why the fuck he needs a Tibetan gong is beyond me.”

“Like you said, it’s Alex. Who knows what goes on in that fucked up head of his?” TK replies. Once upon a time, he thought he knew, but evidently he was the Jon Snow of their relationship, in that he knew nothing. “Anyway, I just turned off at the fork in the road. The host says I’ll lose cell service when I hit the driveway.”

“All right. You be safe, TK,” Mateo says. “I’m literally a phone call away, so  _ call _ me if you need anything. Got it?” 

“Yes, mom.” 

“Fuck you, too.” 

The call ends, and TK chuckles as his music resumes. It’s Mateo’s job as his agent to look out for him, but he takes his duties beyond just work, and TK is grateful for that. If it wasn’t for Mateo catching him when things went south with Alex, TK’s not sure where he’d be right now. 

When he first moved to LA at nineteen, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and working at a coffee shop like all aspiring actors, he had no idea that a chance meeting with  _ the _ Hollywood heartthrob Alex Silvester would turn his world upside down. It was good at first, really good. Alex introduced TK to Mateo, got him his first gig on a TV commercial, and the rest was history. 

In a way, TK owes his career to Alex, but definitely not his success. 

TK shakes his head and shoves all thoughts of Alex to the dark crevices of his mind. He’s not here to think about Alex. Or about work. Or about anything for that matter. It’s been a long time since he last took a real vacation where he could be alone and unwind without the fear of being caught by the paparazzi or fans. He loves his fans, they’re the reason he gets to wake up every morning and do the thing he loves most, but once in a while, he just wants to take off his mask and relax. To exist in total anonymity. 

The road narrows and TK slows as he spots the private property sign nailed to a tree. The instructions say to turn down the slope here and follow the path to the cabin. In the summer, TK can see how spotting the driveway would be tricky, but right now, it’s the only path that’s plowed. 

His tires crunch on compacted snow as he slowly drives down the sloped driveway. Trees with snow laden branches lead him down the narrow path into a massive clearing. The chained gate is open, and TK pulls through carefully. TK follows the host’s instructions and parks next to the cabin at the edge of the clearing. 

Turning off the engine, he sits in total silence and drinks it all in. Large trees surround the entire clearing like a cocoon, and TK sighs in contentment as the silence of the forest soothes his agitation. The frozen lake in the distance is breath-takingly still. What would this place be like in the summer, with the forest bursting with life and the lake warm and welcoming?

He’ll have to check and see if the cabin is available for rent come summer. 

He hasn’t even left his car yet, and already he feels better just being here. There’s something about being alone in the middle of nowhere that calms him. As if he exists in the centre of a world unhindered by the hustle and bustle of human civilization. The trees don’t care about schedules and photo shoots and ex-boyfriends’ weddings. The lake doesn’t care about talk shows and promotional tours. 

Mother nature doesn’t care about his fame and success. She only cares that he lives within her arms. That he is enough just by existing. 

He checks his phone, and true to the host’s word, there’s no cell service. He feels lighter, as if a weight’s been lifted, and a thrill runs through him at the thought of being so completely and utterly unplugged. No one can find him. No one can reach him. If he doesn’t show up at his apartment in two weeks, Mateo will know to come looking for him. But until then, he’s free.

TK takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, and when he exhales, all the stress from his life flows away with that one lungful of air. This little slice of heaven is his for the next two weeks, and he can’t wait to find his centre again. 

He gets out of the car and shivers as a gust of cold air cuts through his sweater. He scurries up the front porch and finds the key where the host said it would be, hidden under the third clay pot from the door, and opens the front door. The cabin is nice and toasty. The host must have come by earlier to plow the driveway, turn on the generator, and set the cabin up for his stay. Even though he had warned TK that he’d have to turn on the generator and hot water tank by himself. 

With barely contained giddiness, TK runs back out to the car and unloads the trunk. It takes him a few trips to get his bedding, extra large pillow, duffle bag filled with comfy lounging clothes, his toiletry kit, and cooler full of food into the cabin. 

The fridge is, to his surprise, stocked with food. There are Tupperwares stacked neatly at the bottom. Bags of greens, a brick of cheese, and an assortment of condiments line the shelves. In the fridge door are bags of individually wrapped chocolates and bags of chips. Huh. Weird. 

TK frowns and purses his lips. The host definitely said he’d not be stocking the fridge. Oh well, it’s a good thing he’s only just decided to go vegan and wouldn’t mind pushing that back until he got home. With all this food plus what he’s packed, he won’t have to make the trip into town in a week to restock. He unpacks his bags of salads and packaged vegan meats and treats and jams them into the fridge before taking a step back and looking around. 

The cabin is modest but roomy, the living room and kitchen separated by a dinner table. A quick snoop into the kitchen cupboards reveals a set of pots and pans, some mismatched tableware, and an assortment of herbs, spices, and oils for cooking. 

Whoever owns this cabin obviously also loves spending time here, and they love to cook. 

TK grabs his duffle bag and walks down the short hall to the bedroom. The room is small and tidy. A queen sized bed is pushed up against the wall next to the doorway, and a chest of drawers sit under a large window across from the foot of the bed. The mattress is bare, as promised, and TK quickly makes the bed with his sheets. 

He hoists his duffle onto the bed and pulls out a stack of his favourite sweaters. He turns to the top drawer and freezes. 

_ Don’t put stuff in hotel dressers. They’re so dirty and you don’t know who’s left God knows what in them. _

Alex’s annoyed voice pops into TK’s head unbidden and TK growls. It must be all that talk about Alex with Mateo that’s triggering these thoughts, because God knows TK has been over that asshole for years. Regardless, the fact Alex can still touch him like this pisses him off, and TK slams his stack of sweaters in the very  _ clean _ drawer with more force than necessary before unloading the rest of his things into the dresser. 

Good mood dampened, TK is determined to not let  _ Douchenozzle _ ruin the first day of his impromptu vacation. He grabs his toiletry bag and spreads his essentials across the vanity. Just because he’s on vacation doesn’t mean he can let his beauty routine go, or his new makeup team will kill him. The bathroom is adjacent to the bedroom at the end of the short hall. It’s small but functional, with the vanity and toilet on one side, and a towel bar on the opposite wall. Tucked in the back of the room, next to the toilet, is a metal claw tub. 

TK eyes the tub and his heart skips a beat. Claw tubs are his absolute favourite, and it’s been a long, long time since he luxuriated in a bath. He’s had a long day of flying, then driving, and it’s cold out. Plus, he’s on vacation after all. TK pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and worries at it. Despite the host asking him to be conservative with water, especially hot water, he decides to allow himself this one small indulgence. 

Steam plumes as he fills the bath, and the scent of eucalyptus and citrus is soothing as he pours his favourite body wash into the swirling water. It’s no epsom salt bath bomb, but beggars can’t be choosers. When he finally lowers himself into the tub, hot water sloshes up to his shoulders, and TK’s body and mind are finally at ease. 

This is going to be an amazing vacation. He just knows it. 


	2. Chapter 2

There’s something magical about the way the snow quiets the forest. Carlos breathes easy for the first time in a long time. His snowshoes drag across the undisturbed powdery surface, and with every step deeper into the forest, he finds equilibrium. 

It was a good idea to come to the cabin, even if it was a last minute, knee jerk decision. But hey, isn’t that one of the perks of having a family owned vacation home? The cabin on the edge of Roche lake has been in Carlos’ family for a couple of generations, and they all rotate through coming up here in the summer to get away from the noisy hustle and bustle of city life. 

No one really comes during the winter. Too cold, too much snow, but Carlos loves it when it’s just him and the quiet wilderness. 

A cool breeze teases the curls of hair peeking out from under his beanie. Carlos tugs the hat lower to cover his ears and pushes his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. He checks the darkening sky and frowns. How long has he been out here? He’s lost track, and it’s freeing knowing that time doesn’t matter. As long as he gets back to the cabin before nightfall, he’s the master of his own schedule. 

No deadlines. No demanding clients. No deliveries. No fancy parties. 

Catering wasn’t what he dreamt of doing, but it paid the bills and, after a while, it became something he did because he didn’t know what else to do. Is this what being stuck in a rut feels like? Sure, he’s one of the most sought after caterers and personal meal planning nutritionists in Hollywood, and it’s nice to be successful at what he does, but is this really what the rest of his life is going to be? 

_ You can always go to New York City. _ A tiny voice that sounds suspiciously like his best friend from culinary school nags him. Since graduation, Michelle’s made a name for herself as a celebrity chef and culinary genius. She’s opened many successful high-end fine-dining restaurants across the US and her empire is growing rapidly. Now, she’s opening up her first restaurant in the big apple, and she’s been after Carlos to take on the head chef position for months. 

It would be a change and a fantastic opportunity. Chefs all over would kill for a spot in Michelle’s kitchen, and he loves cooking with her both as a friend and a professional, but…

He shakes his head and adjusts his backpack, pushing all thoughts of a potential new career path from his mind. He came to the backcountry to escape work, not to dwell on it. The next two weeks will just be him, his trusty knife, his arsenal of spices, and his imagination. He’ll cook all types of cuisines—Mexican, Chinese, Italian, whatever he fancies, blended and fused—for himself, things he can’t make for his calorie and macros-conscious clients. He’ll cook the food he enjoys and the flavours he’s passionate about. 

Carlos’ pocket vibrates, pulling him from his thoughts, and he stops to pull out his phone. The device buzzes repeatedly in his hand until Carlos silences the barrage of notifications. Service is spotty up here, so when he gets it, Carlos likes to take advantage and check his messages. 

The first two emails are from his business partner, Paul, reminding him that they have two big parties coming up for the weekend along with three more next week. A fresh wave of guilt overcomes him as he opens the first email. He should be there helping coordinate and run the event. Instead, he’s hiding out here and licking his wounds. 

The email is about a missing shipment of tiger prawns. He replies with the number of the guy Paul needs to call, then opens the second to find Paul’s done just that. Carlos chuckles and pulls up the messenger app out of habit, and he’s bombarded with messages from friends, acquaintances, and clients. His heart drops, and his earlier good mood evaporates as he thumbs through the list of unread messages. Most of them are angry messages asking him if it’s true, and Carlos wants to scream and throw up at the same time. 

His thumb hovers over a headline someone sent him, along with a wincing emoji, and Carlos’ gut clenches. 

_ Carlos Reyes, Hollywood’s Favourite Caterer, Making A Move On Alex Silvester At His Wedding?!  _

He doesn’t need to read the article to know what it’s about. It’s partially the reason why he fled LA and hightailed it to a whole other country. Alex had been trouble since the minute they sat down for their initial consult, and Carlos should have listened to his gut and declined to cater his wedding. He didn’t, however, and now the asshole’s smearing his name for something he would never do. 

Maybe going to NYC wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. 

Carlos stuffs the phone back in his pocket and adjusts his beanie one more time, turning around to head back the way he came. The sun’s getting low and the sky is thick with dark, gloomy clouds. Despite it being the perfect reflection of his mood, it would be stupid and dangerous to get stuck out here come night fall, especially with those clouds. He moves with purpose, keeping his focus on putting one foot in front of the other instead of the disaster he ran away from back in LA. 

The forest has lost its magical hold on Carlos, and the comforting trees now press in on him, claustrophobic. He shoulders his pack and moves faster, uncaring that his glasses are fogging up and he’s sweating. He’ll be back at the cabin before the sweat cools his skin too much. 

Thoughts of the cabin chase away the chill settling in his bones. He hasn’t unloaded his clothes and bedding from the car yet, but he did unpack and process all the food he picked up in town before driving up to the cabin. There’s enough variety for him to eat like a king for the whole two weeks of his stay, and he likes to keep the cabin kitchen well stocked with spices and dried herbs as well. Afterall, this is where he comes to be bold and adventurous and to experiment with the sort of fusion cooking he loves. 

Maybe he’ll fry the shrimp, cilantro, and cream cheese egg rolls and have that with black bean  _ carne asada _ . Add some sautéed baby bok choy and Spanish rice, and that should be enough to eat himself into happy oblivion. He always finds comfort in the Chinese Mexican fusion flavours he grew up with. His mouth waters, and his stomach growls a long, strangling gurgle that reminds Carlos all he’s had to eat today were some peanuts on the flight.

Feeling calmer with a proper dinner plan, he hurries back to the cabin just as the last of the sunlight bleeds into darkness. He stumbles down the driveway in total darkness and freezes at the sight of the SUV parked next to the cabin.  _ What the hell? _ Light spills from the tiny window on the side of the cabin, and the faint scent of eucalyptus tickles Carlos’ nose.

Fear prickles the back of his neck, and every muscle in his body coils with tension. It’s not unheard of for vacation cabins to get broken into, and they’ve had their share of break-ins over the years, but most robbers bring large trucks and trailers to grab the things that are worth stealing. This SUV is definitely too small to be able to carry much. 

No one else from the family is booked to be here for the next two weeks. So who the fuck is at  _ his _ cabin?

Dropping his backpack by the car, Carlos picks up a branch as thick as his arm, the nearest weapon he can find, and creeps up the front steps. He opens the door quietly, sneaking into his own house like a thief, and finds the lights on in the living room and bedroom. A pair of boots are placed neatly by the front door, and the door to the bathroom is slightly ajar with light spilling through the crack. 

Is that  _ humming _ he hears? 

The smell of eucalyptus is stronger inside and Carlos frowns. Is this a robbery or is someone squatting here? It’s just his luck that even his vacation is about to get ruined. Why can’t he just have one moment of peace and quiet? Annoyance fuels his anger and drowns his fear as he grips the branch tighter. 

Should he run up the driveway and call the park ranger for help? Probably, but it’s too damn late now. There’s no cell service in the cabin, and besides, he can handle the asshole who’s most likely sitting on the toilet with his pants around his ankles, taking a break from robbing the place and thinking no one’s here. 

Carlos stalks down the short hall and kicks the bathroom door open with a bang.

An ear-splitting scream halts Carlos in his charge, and the most beautiful pair of startled green eyes snap to him. Water sloshes over the tub and splashes onto the tiled floor as the stranger scrambles away from Carlos. His knees are drawn up to his chin and his body curls into a ball, and he’s pressed as far away from Carlos as possible. Which is not all that far since he’s in the bathtub.

“Who the fuck are you?” the stranger asks, his pitched voice angry and accusatory. 

Annoyance washes over Carlos and he frowns. “Excuse me?” 

“Who the fuck are you? And why are you in my Airbnb?” he repeats slowly as if talking to a daft person, each word spat through gritted teeth, then his expression freezes and he inhales sharply. “Oh God, he double booked me. Or…” He narrows his eyes at Carlos and fear flashes in his eyes. 

Airbnb? Double booked? What the actual fuck is happening here? 

“This isn’t an Airbnb. You’re in  _ my  _ cabin,” Carlos says, uncaring that he sounds as annoyed and confused as he feels. “Who the fuck are  _ you _ and what are you doing in my house?” 

They blink at each other, and Carlos’ mouth dries as his eyes trail along the curve of the stranger’s neck and down his chest. There aren’t many bubbles to hide behind in the tub, and he pulls his knees closer to his chest as if sensing Carlos’ wandering gaze. He’s as decent as one can be while naked in the bath, but Carlos already got an eyeful when he first barged in. 

Even through the thrum of adrenaline, Carlos can’t help but notice how gorgeous the stranger is. There’s something familiar about him, but Carlos can’t put his finger on it. It’s as if his brain is paralyzed and he can’t think. All he can do is gawk at the beautiful man sitting in his tub, with his thick head of dark, tousled hair, his proud nose, his high cheekbones, and those piercing green eyes staring at him with apprehension and confusion and anger. 

The strong aroma of eucalyptus overwhelms him, or maybe it’s the naked man sitting in his tub, but Carlos is at a loss. He’s unsure of the situation, of himself, of everything, and feeling stupid as he stands over the stranger, holding a giant stick like a cave man.

The man’s eyes widen, and he leans forward to study Carlos with narrowed eyes. “You don’t know who I am?” 

Carlos should know. He’s  _ sure _ he knows, but his brain is still refusing to cooperate and he shakes his head. The stranger relaxes, then frowns as he stares at Carlos, narrow eyes now filled with suspicion. 

“Wait, what do you mean  _ your _ cabin? The host on the app was clearly Asian, and you’re  _ clearly _ not.”

“Asian?” Carlos parrots and something clicks. 

“Yeah, Asian, and I have the email to prove it. So, stop fucking with me.” He crosses his arms and glares at Carlos with his chin raised. “Who are you? Are you stalking me? Are you a fan?” 

Suddenly, it dawns on Carlos why this handsome face looks so familiar. He’s only seen it plastered everywhere in movie posters and on TV. “Oh, I  _ thought _ you looked familiar,” Carlos groans. “You’re TK Strand.” 

And  _ what _ is Hollywood’s hottest heartthrob doing sitting in  _ his _ bathtub? 


	3. Chapter 3

Being who he is, doing what he does, he should be used to having people know his name without introduction, but it still makes him uncomfortable every time. “Okay, so you know who I am,” TK says, glad that he sounds more annoyed than terrified. He swallows, tries to ignore the rapid pounding of his heart, and clenches his fists to keep his hands from trembling. 

“Yeah, me and every person who’s been to a theater in the past four years,” the stranger says. “That doesn’t explain why you’re  _ here _ . You said you rented the cabin off Airbnb?”

“Yeah.”

“From an Asian guy?” 

“Mhm.”

“Is his name by any chance Kevin?” 

TK perks up at the name. “Yeah. That’s him.”

“Oh, I’m going to fucking  _ kill _ him,” the man mutters under his breath. Silence, thick as smoke and just as suffocating, surrounds them and TK’s not sure what to do. “Um,” he continues, breaking the silence. “Not that I don’t believe your story, but I need to see that confirmation email.”

Suspicion goes up like a wall around him and his heart pounds even louder in his ears. “And how do I know you are who you say you are?” he blurts before he can fully process his words. “I mean, don’t even know your name.” 

He looks shocked for a second, then his cheeks colour as if he’s embarrassed. Huh. “Oh, Carlos. My name’s Carlos.” 

“Hi Carlos,” TK says, testing the name. “That still doesn’t tell me anything about you.”

“Show me the email, then we’ll head up the driveway and call my brother, uh, Kevin,” Carlos says. “He’ll confirm I’m not some crazy psycho serial killer or a stalker fan. Then we can get you sorted.” 

Brother? From his dark, tanned skin to his Hispanic features, there’s nothing remotely Southeast Asian about Carlos.

As if reading TK’s mind, Carlos explains, “Stepbrother. His dad, Chinese, married my mother, Mexican.” 

Carlos’ features soften as he smiles ruefully, and TK’s heart skips a beat. How has he not noticed just how gorgeous Carlos is? 

_ Not the fucking time, Tyler Kennedy. Not the fucking time. _

“Oh,” is all TK can say as he shifts his focus back to everything that’s happened in the past ten minutes. Carlos’ smile soothes the edges of his jagged nerves a little, giving him a moment of reprieve from the mind-numbing fear he’s desperately staving off. There are so many layers to the situation that his brain hurts, and that doesn’t even touch on the fact he’s still sitting in the bathtub, naked, while a stranger stands not six feet away, staring at him. 

Silence fills the small bathroom once more, and TK shifts uncomfortably on the hard porcelain. He needs to get out of the tub so he can show Carlos the rental agreement email, but he can’t do that with Carlos standing there. 

“Um, you gotta—so I can—” TK points at himself then at Carlos and the bathroom door. 

Carlos startles. His honey-brown eyes widen comically behind his thick-rimmed glasses as if he’s noticing TK’s state of undress for the first time, and the blush in his cheeks deepens and crawls down his neck, disappearing under his thick winter jacket. 

“Oh, yes, right. I’ll, uh, just…” He makes a hasty retreat and pulls the door shut behind him.

TK sags against the side of the tub and stares at the door. He waits for the roar of blood in his ears to recede and closes his eyes, letting the darkness calm the jitters in his limbs. It’s another few long, measured breaths before his heart stops trying to rip out of his chest. He shivers, his skin clammy and cold, and he sinks all the way into the warm water, hoping the heat will chase away the chill working its way into his bones. 

When he surfaces, his heart sinks. Carlos mentioned getting him sorted. What does that mean? Does he have to leave even though they’re the ones who fucked up the scheduling? It hardly seems fair, but if this is Carlos’ cabin, then he definitely has the right to ask TK to leave. 

TK didn’t just need the time away to relax and recharge. Being who he is and doing what he does, he’s shoved into situations where he needs to be social and engaging constantly. He’s good at being that guy, good at putting on a charming smile and making smooth conversation, but it takes an immense amount of energy to put on that face day in and day out. While he can hold it together well enough most days at work, after attending Alex’s outlandishly massive wedding where he had invited every living, breathing person in Hollywood, TK just doesn’t want to  _ hold it together _ anymore, even if it’s just for two weeks. 

The thought of going back to LA and answering those requests for interviews and guest appearances on talk shows, where questions about Alex’s wedding are sure to come up, makes him nauseous. There’s no way people wouldn’t ask. After all, it’s common knowledge that TK and Alex were quite the “hashtag couple goals” back in the day. 

TK was looking forward to this escape before having to weather all that unwanted attention. To reconnect with nature and find his centre. Instead, he gets to drive four hours back into town and try to change his flight on short notice. Here’s to hoping Carlos will at least let him stay the night and so he won’t have to drive in the dark in the middle of nowhere. 

He should have never gone to stupid Alex’s stupid wedding. Then he wouldn’t have needed to get away and end up in this mess. If he ever so much as hears the name Alex Silvester again, he’s going to burn sage and hide in a salt circle for a week. Which means he’ll probably be living in a salt circle for the rest of his life. Sadly, Alex’s fame hasn’t dwindled even as TK’s career soared. 

With a groan, TK heaves himself out of the bath and shivers. What precious steam that’d built up when TK ran the bath escaped when Carlos burst into the bathroom, and TK will die before he acknowledges just how high his voice got when Carlos kicked the door open. With his cheeks burning, TK bites his lip and grabs the towel off the towel rack with a snap. He dries himself hastily, then wraps the towel around his waist. 

He studies himself in the mirror. His eyes are tired, with dark circles under them to emphasize that point. His skin is more ashen than he’d like, not too sickly, but definitely not glowing with health either. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting the air in his lungs absorb his tension, and breathes it all out with his next exhale. 

It’s already scandalous enough that Carlos saw him naked, he can’t let him see just how rattled he is. He’s TK fucking Strand and he’s got a reputation to uphold. The last thing he needs is Carlos talking to the press and giving them even more ammunition to speculate about TK’s life. He takes another deep breath, and with the exhale, he empties his mind and becomes the person he needs to be every day when he steps out of his house. 

In the mirror, his expression is smooth, his smile easy, and even the way he carries himself is different. His shoulders relax, his back straightens, and with the change in posture, TK settles and slips into his most practiced role. His reflection nods at him, and he tilts his chin in an upward flick in acknowledgement. It’s a simple move that’s both powerful and empowering. He’s TK Strand, and he’ll own the damn room because that’s what he does. 

When he pushes out of the bathroom, Carlos is nowhere in sight. TK huffs a soft sigh of relief and darts down the hall and into the bedroom. He pulls on a pair of worn grey sweatpants, an oversized sweater, and thick wool socks. Once dressed, he digs into his bag for the rental email and instructions for operating the generator and water boiler, all printed as suggested by the host because he can’t get data down here to load it on the go. 

TK pads into the living room on silent feet and finds Carlos standing in front of the kitchen sink with a steaming mug in hand. It all makes sense now why the generator was already running and the hot water tank was full, and why there’s so much food in the fridge. 

Carlos’ back is turned to him as he stares out of the window and into the inky blackness of the night. He’s dressed in a red flannel shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans. His hair is a mass of dark, wild curls, and TK wonders if they’re as soft as they look. The material of the shirt stretches taut across his wide shoulders and thick biceps, and the tail of it sits bunched at the top of his very round and very perky ass. Long legs put the denim of his jeans to the test, and TK swallows as heat crawls up the back of his neck. 

Not the fucking  _ time _ , Tyler Kennedy. 

He sighs again and runs a hand through his hair. Carlos must have heard his loud exhale because he turns from the sink with a smile, and TK has to bite his lip to keep from moaning. The buttons of Carlos’ shirt strain across his chest, leaving nothing and  _ everything _ to the imagination. 

“Here’s the email,” TK says as he stops in front of Carlos, holding out the papers. 

“Thanks.” Carlos puts his mug on the counter and takes the stack, then adjusts his glasses as he leans back against the edge of the counter. 

A small frown creases his brows as he reads the email, the attached invoice, then the detailed instructions on the setup and operation of the cabin. His thick, long lashes flutter as he blinks behind his glasses, and the tip of his tongue pokes out from between his plush lips as he concentrates. The glasses give him a bookish, whimsical charm that tames his impressive physique, and the combination sets TK’s stomach fluttering with butterflies. 

He’s met a lot of beautiful women and equally gorgeous men in his line of work, but Carlos is something else. 

“Christ, he’s charging  _ how much _ ?” Carlos mutters as he flips to the end of the stack of papers and looks up at TK with disbelief in his eyes. “And you paid this?” 

TK shrugs. “You can’t put a price tag on peace of mind.” 

Carlos grunts, and his expression darkens for a brief moment before he schools his face into something neutral. “All right, put on your coat,” he slaps the papers on the counter and pushes off from the counter, his thigh muscles shifting with the movement. “Let’s call my brother so you can have your peace of mind.” 

It’s not the words, but his tone that gives TK pause as if a switch just flipped. Gone is Carlos’ gentle smile, replaced by something guarded and resigned. Was it something TK said? He sighs and grabs his coat off the back of the couch in the living room and joins Carlos—who’s back in his thick down coat—at the front door. He slips on his boots, then flips up the fur-lined hood of his jacket before following Carlos out into the chilly night. 

A gust of strong wind steals his breath, and it takes TK a moment to adjust to the freezing air slipping beneath his coat and into his lungs. Carlos walks ahead without looking back to see if TK’s following, and TK trudges behind him down the dark tree-lined driveway. 

There are no stars to light the way. Was it really smart to follow Carlos down this path? What if he turns out to be a serial killer and this is his ploy to murder TK in the woods? He shakes his head and crosses his arms, tucking his frozen fingertips under his armpits. If he wanted TK dead, TK would already be dead. It’s not like the forest is any more isolated than the cabin is. 

The trek to the top of the driveway takes longer than TK anticipates, and his ears and the tip of his nose throb with cold. He’s so damn tired, and just when he thought he could finally have a little peace and quiet, something else goes wrong. Should he have just stayed home? Lock himself in his house and pretend to be away for two weeks? TK shakes his head and sighs. It wouldn’t be the same. He’d still be surrounded by people, by nosy neighbours and the paparazzi. He’d still have to be on high alert and constantly watching his back. He’d still have to be  _ on. _

So stuck in his own head, TK doesn’t notice Carlos stopping and smacks into his solid back. He stumbles backwards with a yelp, and the heel of his foot catches on something hard and solid. TK goes rigid and his eyes screw shut as he tumbles backwards.

A large hand grasps his elbow even as another fists the front of his coat. TK squeals and clutches at Carlos’ wrist with both hands, hanging on for dear life, and opens his eyes in relief when his ass doesn’t hit the frozen ground. 

Their gazes meet, and for a split second, TK’s sure there’s a flame in those stormy brown eyes that mirrors the heat spreading from TK’s gut. Time stretches like taffy, sticky as it holds them frozen in place. TK swallows, his breath catching, and he’s suddenly too hot despite the cold flakes of snow swirling around them like pixies. He clears his throat and steadies himself. Carlos drops his elbow as if burnt and looks away sharply. A muscle ticks in his chiselled jaw. 

“Um, thanks,” TK mutters as he smoothes down the front of his jacket. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Carlos replies as he pulls his phone from his pocket and turns on the screen. “Let’s just call Kevin and clear the air.” 


End file.
